


Ha'i'ana wahi (Breaking Point)

by avcngrs



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: (Kono returns), Angst, Blood and Torture, Cannon Ships, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt Steve McGarrett, Hurt/Comfort, Medical BS, No Slash, Post Season 7, Protective!Steve, Whump, protective!Danny, radiation poisoning, ties to episode 6.25
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avcngrs/pseuds/avcngrs
Summary: Steve and Danny's friendship is as thick as the blood they spill. When the life-changing drug bust they made almost a year earlier comes back to haunt them, Steve and Danny are forced to risk their lives for the sake of each other. And oh yeah, did I mention Steve was dying from radiation poisoning?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: After being obsessed with the show for a while, I'm dipping my toes into H50 waters! It's been almost a year since I wrote fanfiction (and I need to get back into the groove of writing at my full potential, heh), and hopefully, I'll commit to this. I have a long storyline built but my summer is hectic, so bare with me. Thank you for reading! I do not have a beta so excuse any mistakes unless it's an obvious issue, then leave me a head's up. Speaking of leaving presents… give me comment cookies. I'll be your best friend. I'll remind you later. Don't worry.
> 
> Story Notes: Welcome to my angst party! Yay! Some bad things are going on in my life right now so I'm going to torture fictional characters. The first bit of the plot is introduced in this but the plot will develop itself, though I have an idea of where this story is going… down the road of angst and whump (my favorite whoops). Buckle in! :) Rated M for language my momma wouldn't like, and if I get too carried away with graphic torture.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Hawaii 5-0; yet I can dream, can't I?

**Ha'i'ana wahi (Breaking Point)**

**Prologue**

_Recap from Season 7: Episode 25..._

"What's the matter? You alright?" Danny asked, his chef hat resting on the side of his iconic blonde hair.

Steve sighed deeply, trying to change the subject. "Nice hat," he pointed.

"Thanks," Danny said dismissively, worried eyes staring up at his partner.

Steve's voice was raspy, and there was little to no color in his face. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to catch his breath. Danny's concern jacked up by a thousand. Steve could swim like fifteen miles in the ocean and still only be slightly panting. Something was wrong.

"I get these spells," Steve said, voice almost failing him. "Look, I lied to you about going to the doctor. Okay? I didn't go to the doctor about my liver. I just haven't been feeling so great, so…" Steve looked away, unable to meet Danny's eyes. "He ran some tests last week."

"And?" Danny asked, when Steve paused.

"And I got a little radiation poisoning from that dirty bomb we diffused a couple months back," Steve explained, trying to give his voice a lighter tone as if they were discussing an NFL game. "It's fine. The pills you saw me taking… it's a short term thing. They'll knock it out."

The lines on Danny's face deepened, anxiety piling into his chest. "Short term? S-so, like long term? Is there any…" Danny's voice broke down into incomprehensible muttering as he watched Steve wipe the beads of sweat off his pale face.

"C'mon Danny," Steve tried to pull himself together. "You ask ten of these guys, you're gonna get ten different opinions, right?"

"Well, what did, what did this guy, d-did he say anything? Anything about long term?" Danny's voice had turned to low murmur, panic and worry climbing up his throat.

Steve let out another sigh. "H-He, he said he's almost 100% sure there's gonna be some side effects down the road, ya know, but Danny we're talking years down the road. Not today. I'm fine right now, this is nothin'." Without giving Danny a chance to interrupt, because Steve couldn't bear to answer any more questions or to see his partner's face twisted in worry, he continued, "Will you make me a drink please? C'mon we got a lot to celebrate." Steve rested Danny's chin in his palm for a moment of reassurance. "I love ya. Make me a drink or somethin'."

With that, Steve turned his back on his partner and walked into the kitchen because another moment looking at Danny's agonized was going to make him break down.

Danny stood there speechless.

And there were not many times in his life Danny Williams was speechless.

**Chapter 1**

_20 Hours Later..._

"Are you freaking kidding me? What the _hell_ is the matter with you?"

Detective Danny Williams's voice cut through Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett's concentration as he went for his twenty-first pull up. Steve's body fell downward, muscular arms still clinging to the rafter in his garage. Letting his iron grip relax, he dropped down to the ground gracefully.

"Good afternoon to you too Danny," Steve smirked, wiping the sweat from his face with a dirty rag filled with oil from the Marquis.

"Really? _Really_? Doing pull ups on the rafters? What are you trying to do, tear your house down? They have pull-up bars, you Neanderthal animal." Danny couldn't gesticulate like he usually did while trying to make a point because his hands were occupied with two Guinness and a pepperoni pizza.

Steve slapped the rag over his shoulder and retrieved the box from Danny, opening it to discover a wonderful smelling, meat-filled pizza. No pineapples.

"Not Hawaiian? You know that's my favorite," Steve smirked, egging Danny into one of his animated Jersey speeches.

"The day I order a Hawaiian pizza, Steven, is the day I will be wearing a dumbass hibiscus shirt, no tie, with some pineapple shoved in my mouth. You might as well bury a surfboard next to me cause I'll be six feet underground."

Steve rolled his eyes, returning inside. The house displayed remnants of Jerry's congratulation party, with red solo cups littered on the counter tops and scattered around the couches. Surprised, Danny paused before chilling the beers in the fridge. Steve was very OCD, and along with his "control issues", always kept a very tidy house. The fact that he failed to clean up the mess from yesterday was very… un-Steve-ish.

"You need help cleanin', babe?" Danny asked. "I thought the Navy taught you to clean up a mess as soon as it's made."

"Oh yeah, I, um, I had some paperwork last night. Didn't get around to it," Steve answered. His face was away from Danny while he collected plates for the pizza, but Danny could detect the lie in his voice. If there was one gift Danny possessed besides fantastic detective skills and quick wit, it was being able to read his animal of a partner. Thankfully, Steve was not well versed in the emotion department and couldn't return the favor to Danny.

Instead of calling Steve out on his obvious, pathetic lie, Danny just shrugged. "I guess I can help before we turn the game on."

"Why don't you shove some pizza in your mouth first. Then you'll be quiet _and_ helping and I won't believe my eyes," Steve smirked. "I mean, can Danny Williams even do those two things at the same time?"

Muttering some witty comeback under his breath Steve couldn't catch, he snatched a slice of pizza and folded it in two, New York style. The pizza dangling from his mouth, Danny leaned over to gather cups and ignored the subtle pain from his abdomen where they had cut out his liver almost a year ago to save the Navy SEAL idiot in the kitchen. His liver was almost 100% repaired, but there were still certain movements that jostled his healing body. Said Navy SEAL idiot seemed to either have no pain remaining _or maybe no nerves to feel pain_ , Danny thought, because he was jumping across rooftops the day after he left the hospital.

"Where's the recycle?" Danny asked through a full bite of pizza. Steve pointed to the living room. He'd decided on making a salad to accompany the pizza, engrossed with chopping vegetables. Along with _usually_ keeping a clean house, Steve was also an impressive chef. If Danny didn't know him better, he'd say Steve would make a good housewife. Except for Steve the housewife was also Steve the danger magnet, and Danny felt those two things wouldn't mix well.

Throwing the cups away, Danny was about to return to the kitchen when something on John McGarrett's old desk caught his eye. The desk was now Steve's, of course, but he didn't use it very often when he had his own office at the Iolani Palace. Another fact setting off Danny's alarm system was _those weren't there last night…_

With a brief glance to the kitchen to make sure Steve was still dismembering vegetables, Danny silently picked up the papers, and a rock dropped in his stomach.

_"Uranium Health Effects."_

The paper didn't appear to have come from a doctor's office, so Steve must have printed it from the internet. _The place where you google your symptoms and then you're convinced you'll die in two days,_ Danny thought. A little skeptical, Danny scanned the paper, eyes catching large bold titles like, _"Radiological Toxicity."_

The rock in his stomach developed into a fricking bolder, Danny stole another anxious glance at the kitchen and began reading.

_"Exposure to uranium can result in both chemical and radiological toxicity. The main chemical effect associated with exposure to uranium and its compounds is kidney toxicity. … Very high uranium intakes (ranging from about 50 to 150 mg depending on the individual) can cause acute kidney failure and death."_

Danny felt his knees weaken at the joint.

_"And death."_

Next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor with his back to the desk. He would start crying, but he was too in shock.

_"And death."_

His breaths were getting quicker.

_"And death."_

"Hey man, you okay?" Steve walked in, towel over his shoulder. When his hazel eyes met the scene of Danny crumpled on the floor holding the uranium paper, he didn't know whether to be angry or heartbroken. Angry because Danny snooped in his stuff, or heartbroken because the tough Jersey cop looked like he was about to cry.

"Danny, I printed that off the internet. Don't-"

"Kidney failure and _death_ , Steven! Why the living fuck didn't you mention that last night?"

Steve's mouth was slightly ajar, taken aback at Danny's shouting. "I didn't-"

"You didn't know! The fuck you didn't know! When were you going to tell me?"

"I printed that out this morning. The doctor said-" Steve tried to butt in, but his voice was quickly failing him.

"You told me some 'side effects down the road'. _Dying_ is a little bit more than a side effect!"

"Danny!"

"Why would you keep this from me? I thought we had a mutual agreement that if one of us were dying we would tell the other one!" Danny's voice choked on the last word.

Steve slid down on the door frame, so he was sitting five feet away from Danny, eye to eye. "Telling someone makes it more real, ya know?" Another deep sigh. "And I know you'd freak out, a-and I wasn't ready. It took me a week to even tell you the truth."

Danny was silent, and for once in his life took a moment to wisely choose his next words. Steve was sharing his emotions, which has only happened maybe three times in the eight years he'd known the stoic military man. And one time was only because Steve was drugged out of his mind by Wo Fat. Danny learned to not take these moments lightly, and be very careful with his lightning fast Jersey tongue.

"Did the doctor mention anything about kidney failure?" Danny's tone became a million times gentler, "his father tone." The same tone he would use if Grace was in tears or upset.

Steve didn't reply right away, pulling up one knee and resting his arms on top. His gaze would only meet the hardwood floor, not Danny's intense azul eyes. The silence lingered before a very small, tired voice, a voice that didn't belong to Danny's boss or best friend, a voice that didn't belong to a badass Lieutenant Commander, a voice that didn't belong to a gruff Navy SEAL, a voice that didn't belong to Steve Danger McGarrett, said, "Yes. He mentioned kidney failure. And cancer."

 _Cancer_. Once again, Danny felt pierced through the heart by a very sharp, long, jagged knife built from anxiety, betrayal, and fear.

Steve still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Cancer?" Danny choked out.

"I don't have cancer, Danny! I'm not going to get cancer! You asked about the, l-long term… well…" Again with the sigh. "This is it."

Danny stared at Steve like he was a ghost. Steven McGarrett didn't get cancer or kidney failures. He was indestructible. He was shot four times and shredded his liver yet was awake and recovering in a week. He was a McGarrett. 'A different breed,' Steve told him once. And that different breed was immune to fear and death. At least that's what Danny believed. What Danny has faith in every day when they go into a gunfight. The fact that Steve was well… Steve. Too stubborn to die, too loyal to leave the _o'hana_ he loves, too strong to walk away from a fight.

Danny immediately traveled to the worse case scenario; that was simply his nature. _In the breeze drifted the scents of hibiscus, ocean, and freshly cut grass. The sun shone, but something told him it shouldn't. Everyone wore black. Grover, Chin, Kono. Even Grace was dressed in a new dress, tears rolling down her cheeks but she didn't wipe them away. There was no point. They'd just come back. Danny walked forward, facing a gravestone._ 'Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett. A beloved leader, friend, and brother. Navy SEAL.'

_Danny fell to his knees._

"Danny! Danny! Hey, snap out of it!"

Danny's hazy eyes focused on the very much alive, 'aneurysm face' centimeters away from his own. "Danny! I'm not going to die. Okay! Not soon, anyway. I'm gonna be at Grace's wedding. And all those other things."

"She better graduate before she has a damn wedding," Danny quipped.

Steve relaxed at the snarky remark. "Danny, I know it's in your DNA to focus on the negative, but please try to be positive. For me? This isn't easy for me either, but… but I'm trying okay?"

Danny nodded.

"Love you Danno," Steve coaxed.

"The pizza's getting cold," Danny replied.

Steve frowned. After all that, Danny was talking about pizza. Steve knew sarcasm was Danny's defensive mechanism, how he built up walls of emotional protection, but c'mon..

When Steve didn't budge, he caved in. "Love you too, you stubborn son of a bitch. But seriously, the pizza's getting cold."

Shaking his head, but smiling nonetheless, Steve stood up and stretched to his complete 6'1 frame and headed towards the "freezing pizza." Danny, eight inches shorter, followed pursuit but folded up the uranium paper and stuck it in his pocket before Steve could notice.

He'd just slipped it in, when Steve froze and turned around, concern etched on his features. Danny reeled back so he wouldn't slam into the brick wall that was Steve McGarrett's abs. "We good?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, we're good, as long as you learn to walk forward like a normal person and not unexpectedly stop," Danny waved his arms around.

"Alright. I'm gonna finish this salad. See if you can find the Jets game."

Just like that, the brotherhood between the detective and Navy SEAL was solid again. Danny tried to put the paper in his pocket out of his mind while flipping through channels, but it felt like a nagging itch right where one couldn't scratch.

Steve plopped the plates of microwaved pizza on the mahogany table, then retrieved the salad. The commentary for the NFL game was blaring, as the rich football players prepared for kickoff. It was so loud, Danny almost didn't hear the phone go off, delivering the call of his life.

A clip of Electric Light Orchestra's "Evil Woman" starting playing from his ass pocket and Danny sighed. Just what he needed. The _lovely_ ex-wife, Rachel.

"I guess you and Rachel aren't okay?" Steve shook his head at the '70's song, turning down the game.

"Ya think?" He mentally prepared himself, then pressed the green 'Accept.' "Yes, dear?"

"Detective Williams, I assume?" a deep, distorted, _unknown_ voice engulfed the room, sending both Steve and Danny into protective mode.

"Who the _fuck_ is this?!" Danny barked, spine straight and tingling with ice.

"Someone who doesn't care if you see your family ever again, so I'd watch your language, detective. One wrong move and I kill, what's her name? Oh yeah. Little Gracie dies first, knowing her father failed her, unless you do _everything_ I say."

Danny's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles were white. "I'm listening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those comments? I hoped you would. Please make my day and leave me comment cookies. They're the only cookies that won't ruin my diet. Love ya'll. Message me if you want to chat. Thanks for reading! (Comments also let me know if I should continue the story.)
> 
> Referenced page: http://web.ead.anl.gov/uranium/guide/ucompound/health/index.cfm


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention this is not a McDanno. There is no slash, or sex at all. The farthest I'll go is some very deep bromance, as already displayed.  
> Happy Fourth of July to my fellow Americans! I finished this chapter on the first but didn't have wifi until now. Sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy!

 

Danny's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles were white. "I'm listening."

" _First of all, no calling your Avengers buddies, Five-0. I'm monitoring your phone. I'll know."_  
Danny's deep, blue eyes shifted to Steve, and he shifted his weight nervously.

"Done," Danny lied, biting his lip afterward.

" _Next, you're going to take that pretty, fancy car of yours and drive up to Kona and Piikoi. There's a parking lot behind a Chinese restaurant. Wait there for further instructions."_

The line went dead, phone falling limply from Danny's hand and crashing to the floor; thankfully, the device refused to smash into smithereens.

"Oh god, oh god," he breathed, bpm increasing steeply with every passing second. Every passing second a moment his family was in danger.

"Danny, he can't track you. Or else he'd know you're with me. I'll follow behind, he won't know. I'll take the Marquis," Steve reasoned, struggling to stay calm and collected for Danny's sake.

Danny reached the edge of shock, not comprehending a word from his partner's mouth. "Not again. Grace, Charlie, Rachel. Oh god," he ran his hand down his face.

"Danny! You have to leave now, or he'll think something's up!" Steve raised his voice.

Something in Danny snapped. "How many guns do you have here?"

"You kiddin', bruh? C'mon," Steve led him to his upstairs closet, sliding the doors to reveal a personal arsenal.

"Holy shit, Steven. Is this even legal?" Danny gawked at the array of hand pistols, shotguns, and rifles.

"Take whatever you need," Steve grabbed a thigh and ankle holster, strapping both on.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're not coming," Danny exclaimed.

"What do you want me to do, sit here? The guy doesn't know I heard the phone call. For once, _I'll_ be your backup. You don't have to do this alone, Danny."

"Yes, I do! Or he's gonna kill my children!" Danny was on the verge of a panic attack, the fear rising in his throat, suffocating him into darkness. The darkness where you sat in the fetal position and cried for seven straight hours.

"That's my family too, man!" Steve argued.

The panic was almost past his throat and into his brain, but Danny didn't have a comeback, because Steve was right. Grace and Charlie called him "Uncle Steve" for a damned good reason. Because the Navy SEAL would go through hell a million times over to save them, with the same devotion Danny would.

"Fine, but we have to be careful. I know that's not in your vernacular, but please for once in your life… this is Grace and Charlie, Steve," Danny said, pulling out a Glock 9mm and a peashooter.

Steve nodded. Pulling out Kevlar vests for the both of them, they strapped up like they were heading to a shootout. Hell, maybe they were.

"I have a wire, too. I want you to wear it," Steve pulled out the minuscule microphone.

Danny knew it was the right choice, but bit his lip, torn at the choice of possibly pissing off the kidnapper.

"Okay, but hide it well."

Quickly completing the task, Danny looked like the definition of "secret operation."

As painful as it was, Steve was forced to drive the speed limit, not desiring to draw attention towards himself. Thankfully the windows were dark-tinted, hiding his questionable Kevlar vest and Armalite AR-15 rifle with ammo on the passenger seat. He'd lost Danny a mile ago when the Camaro taillights twisted through traffic at an unnerving speed without the police emergency lights. Everything in Steve rebelled against driving so slow, so far away from the action, and each inch farther away from Danny. He wanted to weave through the traffic on the pitch black Camaro's tail, but couldn't. He'd learned stealth in the SEALS, but he never truly mastered the art of patience.

When he reached Piikoi Street, Steve parked parallel on a curb facing the parking lot. Danny's sleek Camaro sat in the middle, the driver window rolled down so Steve could watch Danny's shaking hands as he picked up his ringing phone…

"Hello," Danny answered, sweat dripping down his forehead. For once, the damn Hawaiian humidity and heat weren't to blame.

" _Detective Williams, I see you've made it. Now, I want you to go into the restaurant. Ask for a waitress named Cindy. She's expecting you,"_ said the voice that would haunt Danny for years to come.

"I want proof of life. Hey!" Danny shouted when the "voice" didn't respond. "I want proof!"

" _Here's your proof,"_ said the voice, then a gunshot rang out, blasting through the phone speaker. Danny might as well have been shot in the head when he heard a girl's scream cut short by the line disconnecting.

He shivered from head to toe. _Grace._

Oh, god no.

The cop inside him wanted to track the number and go in guns blazing, but the father inside him wanted to tread carefully, following the directions. He couldn't risk it.

There was a good reason he was a father before he was a cop.

Fighting back tears and the anxiety and panic attacks building in his chest, he took three deep breaths then stepped foot outside the Camaro. Steve observed from across the street as Danny crossed the parking lot with his distinctive gait, fists balled at his side and swinging with the determined sway of his short frame. Recognizing the behavior immediately, Steve knew Danny was angry and becoming over-protective.

 _Don't do anything stupid, Danno,"_ Steve thought, wanting to punch the living shit outta something.

Danny entered the restaurant, practically empty for the time of day. 3:12; past lunch, and way too early for dinner. One of the waitresses whimpered upon noticing his gun.

"I'm Detective Danny Williams," he announced, producing his badge. "I'm looking for a waitress named Cindy."

The same waitress breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, Mr. Williams-"

"Detective," he interrupted out of habit.

"Sorry. Detective. Your friend said you'd be coming by to get his keys. Here you go," she said, pulling a single key out of her apron pocket, attached to a Corvette logo keychain.

"Thanks," he muttered, sprinting out of the restaurant and pressing the red panic button. Not surprising, Danny's gut felt like someone clicked the panic button on him, heartbeat echoing the loud alarm.

A car chirped in the back of the parking lot. An outdated silver Corvette from the '90s, and Danny rushed towards it. Steve watched his friend thinking, _Now what, buddy?_

Truth was, Danny didn't know himself.

He reached the door and unlocked it, sliding into the seat after taking note of the position. The seat was far back. _A big guy drove this the last time_ , Danny's detective skills kicked in automatically. Sliding in, he gripped the steering with an iron grip just close to crushing it, fumbling with the keys, and sliding them into the ignition. He almost turned the engine when an unfamiliar ringtone filled the car. Searching around, he clicked the glove box open, sending a cheap flip phone tumbling out. Danny answered it, his heart beat loud enough to compete with an orchestra, and said, "Hello?"

" _You took longer than I thought you would, Detective. I thought your family meant more than that,"_ sneered that sickening, distorted, disguised voice.

"Please, for the love of God, don't do anything stupid. I'm doing everything you want. Please, don't hurt my family," Danny ran his fingers through his blonde hair, desperation suffocating his chest.

" _Stupid? I assure you I am not a stupid man, Williams."_

Danny licked his lips.

" _The next thing you're going to do is throw your phone, badge, and gun out the window. You won't need them where you're going. And I don't know where you got that fancy Kevlar vest, but lose that too."_ When Danny scanned the parking lot frantically, the voice continued. " _Yes, I'm watching you, Williams. Roll down the window and throw them out."_

Oh, shit. Steve. If the kidnapper realized Steve followed Danny, Danny's family was as good as dead. He must send a signal somehow, any way to warn his partner.

Rolling down the power windows, Danny tossed out the Glock, 5-O badge, and his smartphone.

"Okay, done, done," he panted.

" _Excellent. I'll give you directions on your way. Pull out of the parking lot and make a left on Kona."_

Danny started the car, sending a telepathic message to his thick-skulled partner. _Please dear God, don't let Steve follow me._

* * *

Lou lifted his head at the sound of a light rap on his office door. There was still plenty of paperwork left over from the human trafficking case, and so far Chin and he were the only two at the office after Jerry's late celebration last night.

"Hey, have you heard from Kono? She wasn't at the party and I haven't seen her since we closed the case," Chin asked, eyebrows furrowed as he leaned inside clinging to the door handle.

"No, man, sorry. I haven't heard from Steve or Danny either. I don't think they were coming into headquarters today but neither of them has answered my texts. There's the Jets game today, so I can see Danny not answering his phone, but Steve? Steve always picks up his phone," Grover stood up from behind the desk.

"Let's try calling them on the smart desk," Chin suggested, motioning for Lou to follow.

First, they tried Danny with no luck, but on the fifth ring Steve picked up his.

" _Hey, Chin,"_ Steve answered, his voice lower than usual, signaling to his teammates he was in 'Commander Mode.'

"Steve, is something wrong?" Chin asked, sharing a concerned glance with Lou.

" _Secure the line,"_ Steve replied.

With his hands flying across the smart table, Chin stabilized the line using technology Lou didn't want to even begin to understand.

"Okay Steve, go ahead," Chin reassured.

" _Someone took Danny's family. Charlie, Grace, and Rachel. I'm tailing him right now. The kidnapper doesn't know I know about this. Danny was just forced to change cars and throw out his gun, badge, and phone. I picked them up from the parking lot,"_ Steve explained, sounding distracted from driving.

"What can we do?" Lou questioned.

" _Can you connect to Danny's phone? The kidnapper contacted Danny maybe two hours ago. I want you to track the number. Find out who this motherfucker is."_

"You've got it, bruh," Chin nodded, although Steve couldn't hear him.

" _This guy seems serious. And smart. He distorted his voice. I wouldn't underestimate hi-"_

Steve's voice was suddenly cut off by a screech of tires.

"Steve?!" Lou and Chin shouted in unison.

The only response they received was the click-click of an automatic, as Steve cocked his AR-15 and tightened his grip. Indecipherable voices yelled in the background and the sharp cracks of bullets resounded, followed by a staticky voice: " _McGarrett! Out of the car with your hands up!"_

" _No chance in hell!"_ Steve answered, much clearer.

Lou and Chin could only listen, helpless and terrified. Chin recorded the phone call starting when they heard the scream of tires. The sound of exchanging bullets echoed through the Palace, deafening Lou and Chin.

"Steve! _Steve!_ " Lou tried to get an answer from his boss; the boss who was caught up in an unexpected firefight.

Lou and Chin swore their blood froze when they heard Steve let out a grunt of pain and a loud "fuck!," followed by more cussing.

"Steve, say something!" Chin lost his cool, a very rare experience.

" _Find Danny!"_ Steve's strained voice ordered.

Three more blood-chilling gunshots, then the line clicked dead.

* * *

" _Take the next right. There's a storage facility. Go to the front service desk. Your name is on the list. Ask for a shed 13 key. Go inside the storage unit, or else,"_ threatened the voice belonging to a man Danny wanted to strangle. Multiple times.

"I'm pulling in," Danny replied, before realizing the man hung up. Steering the foreign Corvette into the parking lot at a 'Steve-slow-the-hell-down-you're-going-to-kill-us-speed,' he observed the abandoned scene. It was a rougher part of town, with little to no traffic. Leaving skid marks and a haphazard parking job behind him, Danny sprinted towards the worn down office with peeling paint, and yellow, uninviting windows. The bell jangled when he slammed the door open, the stench of death overwhelming his senses. Danny instinctively brought his sleeve to his nose and stinging eyes. No matter how many times he discovered a body, the disgust still churned his stomach.

When he finally lifted his gaze, he saw a dirty blonde haired man, twisted at an odd angle, using his own pool of blood as a pillow.

Danny reached for his gun on his side without realizing it, until his hand grasped air. His Glock was lying in a parking lot behind some sketchy Chinese restaurant. Although he wasn't a gun nut, and only used one for the job, Danny missed the comforting feel of protection on his waist. For a second, he considered pulling out the peashooter hidden in his ankle holster; however, if the kidnapper was watching, he couldn't risk it. He advanced towards the victim, years of acting as a homicide detective aided him in instantly picking up details.

The man was wearing a uniform, lips blue and body rigid and cold when Danny hesitantly pressed his fingers to the man's neck for a pulse. Out of habit, he always carried latex gloves in his back pocket for situations like this. Slipping them on, he gently forced the stiff body back in the man's chair to make out his disfigured, swollen face. A nametag pinned on his lapel read, "Stan."

Danny _knew_ that wasn't a coincidence.

It was a warning.

But the real warning came when Danny discovered a paper the victim was holding in a tight fist. Prying his cold fingers with care as not to break them, Danny retrieved the lined notebook paper with the unit 13 key taped to the top.

Two words, a binomial nomenclature name, was scrawled vindictively in blood.

_DANNY WILLIAMS._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please review! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while to write because I couldn't decide how to construct chapters 3 and 4. However, I'm happy with the outcome. Some parts of this chapter are meant to be confusing because the character is disoriented. You'll understand when you get there. As always, bless your soul for reading my fic. Hope you enjoy!

 Two words, a binomial nomenclature name, was scrawled vindictively in blood.

_DANNY WILLIAMS._

Said Danny Williams gagged in disgust, hoping to keep down the slice of pizza he ate at Steve's an eternity ago. Not convinced the man's name was actually Stan, he slapped down the pockets searching for a wallet or identification card. Danny lucked out with the left shirt pocket containing a worn leather wallet. The wallet was stripped of all the cards, but there were fifty-three dollars in cash left, proving the detective's theory this murder was not a robbery gone south.

The discovery of a body legitimized Danny's horror of how serious the kidnapper was. Not only could he be charged with kidnapping, but also first-degree murder. The only question remaining: who was the next victim? Rachel? Grace? Charlie? The real Stan?

Swallowing, he ripped the tape from the key and paper, leaving the dead man behind. Without contact to 5-O, there wasn't much Danny could do for him.

There was a code on the gate; however, Danny refused to return inside the death-filled office. His determination as a father overrides any regards for his own safety. Sliding his already scuffed dress shoes into a diamond on the chain-link fence, he noisily scaled it. When he reached the barbed wire on the top, he winced before attempting to throw his small frame over. A sharp, rude piece snagged on his khakis, leaving a jagged slice down his thigh. Falling roughly on the cracked concrete, his right side exploded in excruciating, blinding pain.

Dazed for a minute, he slowly rolled to the side, letting out a lengthy moan followed by a mumbled "shit" when realizing the familiar pain in the side was a couple of cracked ribs. Trying to catch his breath, each inhale agonizing, Danny slowly lifted himself up with his arm protectively wrapped around his side.

Grace's scream echoed in his head, lighting a fire in his soul to forget the pain and focus on the mission. _I sound like Steve,_ Danny thought to himself scowling, running through the abandoned storage facility, taking note of the increasing numbers.

9...10...11...12... _13_.

"CHARLIE! GRACE! RACHEL! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

No one responded. His heart pounded, his ribs ached and protested his heavy breathing, a thunderstorm of pain shooting lightning bolts through his body; he ignored it all, forcing the key into the lock and clicking it open.

"CHARLIE! GRACE! RACHEL!" Danny screamed, throwing the garage door open.

He was greeted with darkness and silence.

The storage unit was empty except for a stack of boxes on the right side.

"No, no, no!" he yelled, stepping further in shock. "CHARLIE! GRACE! RACH-"

His desperate cry cut short when a blur of movement shot from behind the boxes resulting in a paralyzing pain colliding with the back of his skull.

Danny's world faded to black.

* * *

 

Lou and Chin swore their blood froze when they heard Steve let out a grunt of pain and a loud "fuck!," followed by more cussing.

" _Steve, say something!"_ Chin lost his cool, a very rare experience.

"Find Danny!" Steve's strained voice ordered.

Three more blood-chilling gunshots, then the line clicked dead.

Steve barely flinched when a bullet embedded itself into his smartphone, disconnecting himself from his only help. A black Cadillac Escalade blocked the road when it skidded in front of Steve's Marquis and automatic gunfire rained down on the SEAL through the shattered windshield. He'd taken a hit in the shoulder but the adrenaline saved him from the pain after the initial piercing feeling sliced through his nerves. Since the driver's side window was already destroyed, Steve opened the heavy steel door and set his rifle through the window, scrunched behind the protection. There were five assaulters, all armed with AK-47s and horrible aim. Steve relied on his training drilled into his instincts to save him. No cover. No backup. Just guts and some ammo, baby. His blood pressure spiked. This is what Steve Danger-Magnet McGarrett lived for.

A target stuck his head out a little too far, and Steve naturally aimed for his face, the man's brains exploding like a thrown watermelon.

One down, four to go.

His magazine clicked empty, forcing Steve to dive across the seats for a new cartridge on the passenger side. Danny's voice echoed in his head… " _Are you kidding me? You can't even drive somewhere without getting caught up in a freakin' gun fight!"_

Then it happened.

While switching magazines, Steve smacked against the vintage seats, confused and disorientated. A warm sensation filled his stomach and gray flakes on the edge of his vision threatened to drown him in darkness.

He pressed his hand to his gut and brought it back up to his face to discover scarlet dripping from his fingers. The point blank shot penetrated the vest. "Aghhh," he groaned, blinking roughly to try to force the haze away. Blood was soaking into the leather seats. The leather seats he just refurbished, goddamnit. His dad would be pissed. And the original carpet from 1974 swallowed an increasing lake of blood. His dad would be _very_ pissed. Grasping the steering wheel and leaving more smear marks of blood, he pulled up his torso into a sitting position, Glock 9mm in the other hand. This movement forced a great amount of groaning. Steve caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. A piece of glass gashed his forehead and created burgundy, sticky mats in his dark hair. He lost color in his face despite his Hawaiian bred-and-born tan. He looked like shit, as Danny would remind him if the Jersey spitfire was beside him.

Distracted with clouds rolling in this brain, Steve couldn't react properly when a figure decked out in tactical gear, including a mask covering his features, approached the open car door of the Marquis. It felt like a moment from a crappy sci-fi film as Steve's exhausted brain played tricks on him. He looked like an astronaut approaching on Mars. The man held Steve at gunpoint, and for some reason, Steve's arms were too heavy to pull the trigger on his own gun. Instead, he used the only part of his body that obeyed his brain: his legs. He stuck his Timberland boots underneath the metal handle and slammed the door shut. When the spaceman came close enough he kicked both legs, using his impressive strength, into the car door so it smacked the man center mass. Barely fazed thanks to his body armor, the astronaut stumbled back a few feet. Steve wished his Kevlar was as reliable.

 _You're shot, Steve,_ Danny's voice pestered him.

"Shut up, Danny," Steve muttered. "I'm aware."

The three remaining attackers advanced towards the Mercury vehicle, armed with tactical gear head to toe. To Steve, they appeared more like threatening black blobs than humans. Blobs who were ripping open the doors of John McGarrett's Marquis.

Hands grasped Steve as his vision clouded into a dizzy, pitch-black spiral.

* * *

 

_Jersey. His hometown and one of the only places in the world Danny ever tasted happiness. It was in this city, his city, where he proposed to Rachel and Grace was born not long afterward. This city of smog, 9 to 5s, attitude, and skyscrapers. Not to mention the fantastic, greasy food on every street corner. Even in the dead of summer, the humid rain threatened to fall. Cars honked, and taxis zipped in between pedestrians like expert NASCAR drivers. Most people only came here for work and detested the crowded and fetid streets. But Danny thrived here. The noise, the people... the city life suited him._

_Two women were beside Danny each holding a hand. Rachel on one side, Grace on his right. She was older somehow, features more prominent and chiseled with womanhood and wisdom. In her prime, she was on the edge of twenty. Rachel had grown a few silver hairs, but still radiated beauty. A few more skyscrapers lined the Jersey City skyline as he contently walked toward their favorite restaurant, Sal's Steakhouse._

" _I'm so glad we never moved to Hawaii," Grace announced, breaking the silence full of companionship._

" _Really? You were dying for the sunshine and palm trees," Rachel commented in her light, British accent._

_Danny shook his head un-approvingly. "Sunshine gives you cancer and a palm tree probably would've fallen over and destroyed your first car."_

" _Hawaii's not that bad, Daniel," Rachel chuckled, amazed at the negativity of her husband._

" _Nonetheless, Jersey's where it's at, babe," he smiled._

" _Definitely. Where else can you get so many homeless people on the same block?" Grace asked sarcastically._

" _Yeah, but where else can you get this view?" Rachel questioned, as the family paused. In between two skyscrapers they could view Freedom Tower in its glory, with blue lights on its top third, fading into white, fading into red. One World Trade Center was a phoenix rising from the ashes, proving to the world that America would never fall to an attack. They would fight back and never surrender. Danny could envision September 11, 2001 in his mind like it was yesterday. The black smoke lasted for_ days _, and despite his injuries from the case when he lost his partner, Grace, he was still called as law enforcement to help recover people buried in the rubble. Danny wasn't able to come home for a week, because each second of every NYC, New Jersey, or Brooklyn law enforcement's time was spent at what would become Ground Zero years later. The carnage was a nightmare. The whole thing was a nightmare. Some days Danny could hardly believe it really happened, because to believe it happened was to also lose faith in humanity._

_When Danny's sergeant suggested stationing him with Honolulu Police Department, Danny almost set down his badge because of how strongly he refused. He would never make his family move from Jersey. Their home. Danny's chest burst with pride of the history here and his influence on it. Every arrest he made cleaned up Jersey City for the generations to come and follow in his footsteps. There was no way he was moving to some pineapple-infested hellhole. Everything he needed, Grace and Rachel, were right here._

" _So, what do you think you're going to order tonight?" he asked his teenage daughter when they resumed strolling._

" _Maybe some thin crust," she shrugged._

" _That's my girl," he smiled, grabbing Rachel by the waist to pull her in close and give her a peck on the cheek._

" _I love you, Daniel."_

" _Love you too, babe," he answered, staring into those magnificent, wondrous, chocolate eyes. How could he ever leave this girl?_

CRASH.

Danny's captivating dream ended in a split-second. His head ached profusely and he groaned loudly, protesting the electrifyingly bright lights and his chest felt like it caught on fire from the inside. Everything was blurry, and his heartbeat pounded, worsening his already paralyzing headache. This was worse fucking hangover he'd ever had.

 _Not a hangover,_ a tiny voice in his head reminded him.

CRASH.

Another deafening noise came from the direction of the rusted metal door. Danny would've rushed over there to open it, gun drawn when it dawned on him he could perform neither because A) he was tied to a chair and B) did not have his gun. Thankfully, the door opened for him, revealing a 6'3 man struggling to escape the iron grips of the two masked men on his side. Two streams of blood flowed from his torso, mixing with his blue shirt to create a purplish tint. Not to mention the giant gash on the side of his face, slightly covered by the gag in the man's mouth.

"STEVE!" Danny shouted.

Two deranged pupils dilated on the blonde detective, and a loud, two-toned noise escaped through the cloth in Steve's mouth which could only be translated to "Danny!" Instead of relaxing at the sight of his friend, Steve battled the guards more harshly, relying on his enhanced muscles rather than his fading energy. Too much blood loss in too little time, and he was forced to succumb to his enemies. They strapped him in a chair facing Danny, before leaving the two Five-O members in the spartan room.

"STEVE!" Danny repeated.

Danny lost his breath in horror as Steve's eyes rolled back in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews = updates! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally half of this story so far is people talking on phones. Didn't really plan that but oh well. Thank you to everyone for the kudos, bookmarks, and support!  
> On another note, I hope most of you are aware that Grace Park (Kono) and Daniel Dae Kim (Chin) are leaving H5O for Season 8. Please know they are most definitely staying in this story (Kono returns soon, my friends), as I am denying the devastating fact they are leaving the show. Here's an article link with the basic consistent information I've been hearing, if you're curious: http://variety.com/2017/tv/news/daniel-dae-kim-grace-park-hawaii-five-0-1202484329/

 

"Steve, say something!" Chin lost his cool, a very rare experience.

" _Find Danny!"_ Steve's strained voice ordered.

Three more blood-chilling gunshots, then the line clicked dead.

"Oh, hell nah," Lou said, staring at the smart desk showing the red disconnection. "Did you get a location off his phone?"

"Last output was at Keawe and Halekauwila. Let's go."

Chin swore he never saw Lou run that fast in his life unless there were free malasadas. Grabbing his favorite shotgun, Chin followed, nipping Grover's heels who ran out double-fisted with rifles.

"My car," he said, and they bounded through the parking lot. The tires on the '65 classic, cherry-red Mustang shrieked as they hauled ass out of the parking lot. The sirens blared before they even got on the road.

Chin pressed speed dial on his phone with one hand on the wheel, then set it down on the dash. On the fourth ring, his favorite voice in the world answered, " _Good morning, baby."_

"Abby! Steve and Danny are in trouble! How fast can you make it to the corner of Keawe and Halekauwila?"

" _Ten minutes. What do you mean, trouble?"_

"I don't know. Danny's family was abducted and Steve was trying to help and then he got into a gunfight while on the phone with us, and now he won't pick up!"

Abby quickened her pace to her car, her own panic rising with the panic in Chin's voice. If there was one reliable thing about her boyfriend, it was his calmness. In the middle of a gunfight, Chin would stay stone-faced and iron-willed with his shotgun blasting away.

" _What about Kono? Have you heard from her?"_ Abby asked, drowning out her own voice when her engine turned over.

"No. I'm about to put out an APB on them all. Hopefully, Steve will be where his phone says he is," Chin explained.

" _I'm on my way,"_ Abby announced.

"Thank you," Chin answered, hanging up.

"What the hell could Steve and Danny gotten themselves into this time?" Grover wondered out loud.

"Whatever it is, isn't good," Chin said, his breath catching in his throat. After the last turn, Steve's Marquis came into view in the middle of the intersection. A body lay not too far away, decked in tactical gear. HPD vehicles already controlling the scene, officers controlling curious tourists, Duke controlling the police officers. Blue and white lights flashed and reflected on every window within a 100-yard radius. There were six squad cars and a fire truck and ambulance per protocol. An officer started lining the area with yellow Crime Scene tape, forcing the tourists back. Not unusual, a crowd surrounded, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the action. Tags with numbers were placed at every pool or droplet of blood. It was the liveliness of the crime scene Lou and Chin were so familiar with, except this time an uneasy darkness clouded their minds. A darkness that recurred whenever Chin knew that a member of his o'hana was endangered. A darkness he'd experienced _way_ too often. Duke approached Chin's Mustang as it came to a screeching halt.

"Why are you guys here already?" Grover asked from the passenger side.

"We responded to reports of gunshots in this neighborhood. Whoever did this was very stupid, the cafe on the corner produced close to fifty witnesses. Why are _you guys_ even here?" Duke questioned, confused at how the task force knew about this 10-32.

"That car is Steve's, Duke," Chin explained, opening the door as the sergeant backed up.

All color left Duke's face. "McGarrett's? Are you sure?"

"What is it, Duke?" Lou exchanged a look with Chin.

"Follow me," Duke said without explanation.

When they reached the Mercury Marquis, Chin and Lou immediately saw the heart of Duke's concern. Blood was _everywhere._ Smeared across the passenger seat and console, plus there was a pool dripping from the driver's seat down to the carpet. Multiple weapons lay scattered around the vehicles, including an AR-15 rifle with a bloody handprint on the cartridge. The car nut inside Chin hoped the windshield wasn't original because there wasn't much left of it. Well, it _was there,_ just scattered in a trillion pieces. Some shards were larger than others, but mainly the windshield was reduced to teeny, tiny sparkles covering the car, reacting to the Hawaiian sunshine by creating a masterpiece of light refractions. It was too beautiful to be a crime scene. To be Steve's crime scene. Steve's crime scene which included an arsenal of weapons on the backseat. His phone lay on the floorboard, a smoking hole through and through. Danny's badge, gun, and phone accompanied it, reminding Chin and Lou of the foreboding situation. For all they knew, both Steve and Danny were hidden in a shallow grave.

"Chin!" called a lovely voice.

"Abby," he responded, turning around to see the blonde cop jogging towards them, ponytail bobbing from side to side. She wore a flowing pink top and skinny jeans, Glock 9mm and badge proudly displayed on her waistline.

When she saw the blood in Steve's classic car, her hands shot up to cover her mouth in horror. "Oh my god. Is it Steve's?" she whispered. Although all of them were experienced cops who witnessed enough crime scenes to last a lifetime, there was no way to describe the feeling of knowing it's someone you love harmed at that scene.

As if on cue, Dr. Noelani Cunha walked over with her medical examiner kit, pushing up her square glasses. "Hello," she greeted them cheerfully, not aware of the 5-O force's fearful spirits.

"Doc, I want this blood checked three times," Chin commanded.

At Noelani's puzzled visage, Lou explained, "We think it's Steve's."

She stared at them with round, alarmed chocolate eyes, like a child who was told cookies were not allowed before dinner, and the 5-O team was reminded of how young and innocent the medical examiner actually was. Yes, the definition of her job was working with gore and human remains, yet she wasn't a field worker. She didn't know the thrill of pulling the trigger of a gun sending thunder through your body and the powerful feeling it instilled. She didn't know what it was like chasing after a suspect with adrenaline replacing sanity, your lungs burning with fire while your heart pumped as strongly as humanly possible. She didn't know what it was like kicking down the door of a suspicious room, decked in tactical gear, completely unaware of what was on the other side; it could be nothing, or there could be a bullet slicing your brain the next second. And Dr. Noelani definitely didn't know what it was like when your teammate, your o'hana, was in danger, and it was up to you to save them no matter the cost to your own life.

With a deep breath, she meticulously observed the blood. "It looks like a pint and a half. If…" She hesitated.

"If?" Abby prompted.

"Whoever this is, if they've lost this much blood and are still losing it at a continuous rate, they don't have much time left," the M.E. explained, swallowing as she struggled to meet Abby's perturbed stare.

A shiver ran down Chin's, Abby's, and Lou's spine. Steve was as tough as they come, if not tougher, but despite his indestructible nature, he was still human at the end of the day. And a human needed blood. If he didn't, exsanguination was next. And a funeral after that. Not even Navy SEALs are trained on how to survive without blood.

"Okay," Lou was the first to say something. "If this is Steve's blood, and _it very well could not be,_ we need to figure out who these fuckers are that caused this, and what they want. Starting with that guy," he said, pointing to the dead John Doe decked in tactical gear with his brains decorating the roadway.

"I started my preliminary report," Noelani explained. "COD was obviously a gunshot wound to the skull, and judging by the damage, I'd say it came from this rifle." She pointed to AR-15 in the Marquis.

"Atta boy, Steve," said Abby with the ghost of a smile.

When she leaned down to get a closer look at the gun, she noticed something and immediately reached something and grabbed her medical needle-nose pliers. Grabbing a plastic tray from her kit, she dug something out of the black leather seat with 5-O watching curiously. She dropped the object with a sharp "clink" into the tray. Noelani repeated this again with a spot further down. Upon turning around, the task force members observed two bloodstained bullets adorning tiny pieces of flesh.

"Whoever was sitting here received two through-and-throughs. Judging by the positioning, I'd say they hit the shoulder and abdomen," she bit her lip.

Everyone received the same thought but refused to say it out loud: _If the bullet pierced Steve's new liver, he could be dead in an hour._

Before anyone could interrupt the heavy, oppressive silence, Chin's phone rang. A flood of relief filled his visage at the caller ID.

"Kono!" he shouted with joy and solace. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay?"

" _I'm in Carson City,"_ she said sternly.

"Nevada?" Lou asked, flabbergasted.

" _The trafficking. I can't let it go on. Someone has to do something. That's why I'll be on the mainland for a while, tracking the operation,_ " Kono explained. The determination was clear in her voice.

"Normally I'd give you a speech about leaving without telling us, but Kono, it's Steve," said Chin.

" _What happened?"_ Kono's voice instantly betrayed her worry.

"We don't know. Danny's gone and his family is kidnapped, and I'm standing in front of Steve's Marquis with two pints of blood in it while Steve is nowhere to be found," Chin tried to explain.

" _How do you know it's Steve's?"_ she asked, denying what could be.

"We haven't checked yet, but right now that's what it looks like," Abby sighed, her eyes glued to the gruesome sight in front of her.

"I understand what you're trying to do for those girls and I respect that, cuz. But right now, you need to come back. If both Steve and Danny are gone…" Chin trailed off, not willing to finish the sentence.

" _I'm turning around right back to the airport and catching the next flight,"_ she responded.

"Be careful, Kono. We don't know what these kidnappers want. For all we know, they could be trying to snatch the rest of us too," Grover said.

" _Got it. Keep me posted._ "

"Hey, Kono?"

" _Yeah, Chin?"_

"I love you. Stay safe."

" _I love you too, cuz. I'll be off the mainland in an hour."_

"Aloha."

" _Aloha."_

As the call clicked off, Duke waved them over to the dead stranger. "Guys! You're gonna wanna see this!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy. Updates make you happy. Therefore, you should comment and spread happiness. :) Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Hawaii Five-O fandom is truly o'hana! Never have I had so much attention and love for a story so fast! Mahalo to all of you for the time you spend reading my humble writing. I also want to say how sorry I am for this late update! To be fair, I have a pretty good excuse of being in the hospital for a week and then in serious pain afterward. However, I hope you enjoy this update and have a fabulous day!

Everything fucking hurt. Like  _really_ hurt. What the hell could he have done now? Maybe he got hit by a bus while chasing a suspect because he was sore head to toe and his brain was a mess of jumbled thoughts. Such as,  _it's freezing, why am I restrained,_  and  _Jesus, it all hurts._ Steve's brain performed a very sluggish double-take.  _Restrained? What the hell?_ Pulling on his arms received no reaction. There was something tied around his wrists. A very annoying something forcing him to stay in this position. Something wrapped his chest. It was comforting almost, until he realized it also forced him not to adjust his torso. Only his legs were free but bent at the knee.

_A chair. I'm tied in a chair._

While his brain struggled to perform the simplest of tasks, his ears caught a distant voice. A voice his scrambled brain found comfort in, but also an annoyance.

His name was being repeated over and over.

Groaning, he wondered why he couldn't just slip back into deep,  _painless_ oblivion.

"Steve! For once in your life, listen to me you stubborn son of a bitch! Steven!"

Apparently, painless oblivion was not an option. An exploding pain forced the clouds of out his thoughts, and Steve McGarrett gasped, blue eyes flying open and shining electric in pain.

"Steve! Can you hear me?!"

Steve's eyes focused on another figure tied in a chair, with wisps of blonde hair hanging down near his eyes. Hair that was  _never_ messed up.

"Danny," Steve croaked.

"Yeah, babe. I'm here," a flood of relief washed over the detective's face.

Steve slowly observed his surroundings, and there wasn't much to observe. Stark concrete walls, lined with various rusted chains and burgundy stains from an unknown source of blood. The only two chairs or furniture pieces in the room were the chairs the Five-O members were tied to.

"How long have we been here?" Steve's throat felt like gravel.

"Maybe half a day, I don't know. Some doctor came in maybe five hours ago and patched you up," Danny explained.

Sure enough, when Steve gazed down, there were no longer gaping holes in his body, nor was he wearing a shirt. Instead, they were both replaced by gauze held in place by Gorilla duct tape. Everything came flooding back. The phone call. The parking lot. The gunfight.  _Danny's family._

"Where's Grace and Charlie?" he almost shouted, recalling their reason for being in this shit-hole in the first place.

"I don't know," Danny bit his lip. Steve noticed a red tint in those deep, blue eyes. Though he would never admit it, he cried. In angst, anxiety, and fear for his family, Danny Williams had wept.

"Did they give you proof of life?" Steve asked, fighting through his headache to focus.

"I heard Grace scream," he responded.

It was silent. Steve couldn't fathom how much Danny emotionally tore himself up in the last couple of hours; for someone who over thought everything, this was torture for Danny Williams. Every last second for the past couple of hours, Danny toiled over the thought of his endangered children.

"Look, if a doctor came in and saved me from bleeding out, they don't want us dead. They don't want any of us dead, Danny," Steve tried to reassure his friend, and secretly himself.

"I heard a gunshot and Grace  _scream_ ," Danny repeated. "And they already shot you. Twice. Maybe they don't want us dead, but they sure as hell don't care if we're not in one piece."

"What did the doctor look like?"

"I don't know. They all had masks."  
"Did they talk at all?"

"No," Danny shifted in his chair and winced.

"Whoa, Danny are you hurt?"  
"Busted some ribs. Don't worry about it," he shrugged it off, wincing again. "Out of all of our problems right now, my ribs are not a priority. Okay, Navy SEAL genius, how do we get out of here?"

"There's no windows. And we're not going to be able to open that door. We need to wait. Figure out who this is and what they want," Steve explained, his brain still fuzzy from blood loss.

"I thought the SEALs would have trained you some fancier shit than 'waiting'. What happened to  _Semper Paratus_  and all that?"

"That's the Coast Guard," Steve rolled his eyes. "Look, we have the tactical advantage."

Danny gawked and his face mimicked his mocking tone. "Tactical advantage?! Are you kidding me?! We are tied to chairs, Steven. You said it yourself we can't get out of here. They have my children somewhere, and you're bleeding from two holes in your body. We don't know what they want or who the hell they are. How the living fuck do  _we_ have the tactical advantage?!"

"I called Chin before they abducted me. And when they kidnapped me, they made a scene in public. They probably left the Marquis out in the street. Which means HPD is putting the puzzle pieces together as we speak. They know something's wrong, which means we have people looking for us. And that strong of a team on the outside gives us a tactical advantage."

"You're insane! You're touched in the head! They got both of us locked in a room! And one of us, not pointing fingers, was trained by the U.S. government to avoid these situations!" It was strange for Danny to be doing his routine Jersey shouting without his hands to wave all over the place.

A particularly strong sting stabbed his bullet wound, and Steve couldn't hide a wince, eyes glazing over. "Look, Danny-" he began, but was cut short when a distant, new sound reached his trained ears.

"What?" Danny asked, confused at Steve's sudden aneurysm face.

"Shush," Steve whispered. Sure enough, footsteps were approaching towards the metal door. "Someone's coming."

"Don't say that. That's what people say in horror movies when they're about to get murdered!" Danny said in his idea of a "hushed" tone.

Steve raised a finger to his lips. Along with the footsteps approaching, voices were becoming more distinct. It wasn't English, that was for sure. Danny obviously heard it too, because he finally shut up for once in his life and furrowed his eyebrows at his partner.

"It's Korean," Steve whispered, answering Danny's silent question.

"Well, do you know what they're saying?"

Steve didn't have a chance to respond because the voices and footfalls reached the door. Danny and Steve both straightened their backs, both suppressing groans, and both prepared for whatever came into their room of hell. They exchanged a glance of "here we go," before addressing their attention to the rusted doorway.

The first Korean who walked through the door adjusted his Rolex and his Gucci suit, smiling devilishly at his two tied-up prizes. Tattoos covered his neck despite his wealthy businessman mien and slicked back hair. Overall, he had as much appeal as a cobra. A magnificent creature of riches and power, yet he contained venom and fangs any sane person would run away from. He was obviously the boss.

Following him were a bunch of goons in suits, who lined the edge of the square room in a trained fashion, hands on the gun on their waistband. There were about ten in all, but one in particular stayed right next to the boss, and Danny couldn't believe his eyes.

He wore black slacks and a maroon button down, obviously much lower on the ranks. There was a scar above his eyebrow, resulting from an event Steve and Danny were altogether too familiar with.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Oh my god," Danny spat. "You looked better in orange, buddy. Or, or, you know what? You looked better when you were swimming in meth with my friend's gun pointed at your head."

The first man still played with his Rolex, ignoring the detective while Steve stared, aghast, not comprehending his partner's ridiculous reaction.

Danny smiled in his sarcastic manner, looking over to Steve. "It's Dae Won. Who would've thought he'd clean up so nicely."

 _Dae Won. Of course,_ Steve shook his head. It was a blur in his memory, but he still remembered that day in flashes. Signing up to go undercover as a drug pilot, with Danny as his mechanic. They set up the deal with Won before receiving the phone call about moving the meth. Before you knew it, they were up in the air, drifting through the clouds towards a perilous fate. The plane contained 1.3 million dollars worth of crystal methamphetamine, protected by Dae Won, distributor of the fentanyl cut crystal bringing a deadly plague on the island of Hawaii. Everything about the bust was going smoothly, then the helicopter. That's all Steve could recall, and from what Danny's said about that day, that's all Steve wanted to remember. He'd been shot three times, one in the right shoulder, two in the abdomen; one GSW inflicted critical damage to his liver. That's when Danny stepped in and offered to donate half of his liver, saving Steve's life. Steve only knew this from the recounts of his team, because for him, everything around that time was a mess in his mind. There was a lot of pain and a lot of blank spaces where memories were supposed to be. That didn't stop Steve from waking up in the middle of the night months later, sweating so hard the sheets were soaked, realizing how close he came from his encounter with death.

"I guess I could say the same to you," Dae Won smirked.

Before Danny and Steve realized what happened, Dae Won balled his hand into a fist and sent it flying into Detective Williams' face. More of Danny's wispy blonde hair escaped his traditional hairstyle and covered his eyes. Blood trickled from his lip, painting his teeth as he chuckled. "My daughter's got a better right hook than you, babe."

"Speaking of your daughter," Dae rubbed his knuckles, obviously not used to getting his hands dirty, "I'd watch your mouth. Unless you want to hear her scream again. And this time, it'll be her last."

"I want proof of life," Danny commanded, blue eyes on fire and blazing with anger.

"You're my prisoner. You don't get shit," Dae laughed, grabbing Danny by his long hair and spitting on his face.

"Enough," said the man with the Rolex, obviously annoyed at Dae Won's drama. His voice was deep and thundered in the room, thick with a Korean accent and a tone that proved he was not to be messed with.

"Let me guess," Steve said, addressing the Rolex man, "you're the boss."

Unamused, the Rolex man pulled out his latest model iPhone, reading something on the screen. "Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett. Graduated almost top of your BUD/S class, and went on to be one of the most successful Navy SEALs of the last decade. Plenty of tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, even a stunt in North Korea. I assume you're familiar with my country then, and an old friend of mine, Wo Fat," 'Rolex' said, his voice monotone.

"My condolences. In case you haven't heard, this guy blew Wo Fat's brains out," Danny announced, nodding his head towards Steve.

"That's fine by me. He was becoming a liability."

"Is that what we are? Liabilities?" Steve asked, eyes fierce and unwavering despite the black spots dancing on the edge of his vision.

"No, Lieutenant, you are my business expansion. You cost me eleven million dollars of merchandise and humiliated me to my partners. But you've become quite famous, even overseas. You've destroyed much of the import business into Hawaii, and for that, you've made plenty of enemies including myself. You've put a price on your head, Lieutenant, and it's time to pay it." Rolex was inscrutable, maintaining a poker face with each word.

"The bust, at the airport? That was yours," Danny was struggling to put the pieces together. "You rolled on your own operation?" He stared at Dae Won like he grew another ear. "And you're still  _alive?_ "

Naturally, Steve had no idea what they were talking about. During the bust, he was unconscious and grasping life by a string in the hospital with a shredded liver.

"He was following orders. We did our digging and we knew who you were before you even got on that plane. We were trying to take you out and sink our problems in the ocean but unfortunately, that didn't happen. By destroying our ties to Hawaii, we thought you'd stop looking for us. Sadly, you didn't back down and now those DEA agents are lying in shallow graves in the jungle, never to be found by your people. But I truly believe in one of your English sayings: 'an eye for an eye.' So now, we must reunite." Rolex didn't even look up, tapping something on his phone before turning it around and showing the display to the two Five-O members.

It was a live feed of another dark, concrete room. Except for this time there were four chairs containing Grace, Rachel, and Charlie. They all lay their heads on their chest, unconscious. Rachel had blood sliding down the side of her face ruining her expensive, stark white shirt, no doubt bought for her by Stan. Her dark brown hair was only reminiscent of its usual perfection, now frizzy and disheveled. Grace and Charlie looked unharmed, thank God, but that wasn't good enough for Danny.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL CUT YOUR FREAKING HEAD OFF! YOU HAVE US! LET THEM GO!"

Danny was rewarded for his yelling by a backhanded slap from Rolex. "They're unconscious right now. Drugged with my own little concoction. You cooperate, and they go home to their beds and wake up with no idea what happened except for a cut or two. You don't cooperate, and I'll slice them to pieces in front of your face."

"YOU-" Danny started.

"Okay, okay," Steve said, interrupting before Danny performed anything stupid. "What the hell do you want?"

"I want to see you  _suffer_  like you've made my empire and reputation suffer. Won, where was it that Steve was shot when you were on that plane?"

"Shoulder, and two to the abdomen, one hitting the liver. I do believe it was Danny here that donated half his liver to save his life."

"Heartwarming," Rolex said in a tone the exact opposite of the word. He nodded, causing four guards to approach Steve and Danny  _each_ , untying their ropes and holding them down. Danny and Steve both tried to escape, but they were no match for four opponents at a time.

"Commander McGarrett, I would save your energy. I have a lot planned for you, seeing as my plan worked better than I thought. Detective Williams and his family were supposed to be bait, but now, I guess they're leverage.

"I have cameras in this room. And I'm leaving a 9mm behind with three rounds," Rolex announced, pulling a Beretta out from underneath his suit. "I want you to shoot your partner the same way my employee shot you a year ago. And the doctor who saved your life so we can have some  _fun_ , marked where your scars are. I know if you mess up. Shoot Danny Williams, and maybe his family will live. Maybe," he smiled with a hiss, dropping the gun next to the door and making his exit. Dae Won followed like a lost puppy, and the rest of the men were right on their heels. Steve and Danny stayed in their seats, knowing it was useless to try and fight an army.

The gun lay cold and menacing on the concrete floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not proud of my writing in this chapter, because I know it could have been better. However, it's been a tough past couple of weeks and I really wanted to give you guys an update. I apologize, and promise a better chapter next week! Love ya'll, please review!


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